Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

Phasing between the
dick-numbing taste of
reality and a silly,
iron-wrought daydream
about porn stars smothered
in applesauce.

It takes a reliable method
to tame your oranges, and to
tuck them between your 
nodes, plugging their meaty
sockets with bundles of
succulent nerve has,
mellow brass like pus.

Crops yield the children of
the sun. Solar dick stuck in
the dirt ad spewing a
sunny seedy spray. Deflower so
some flowers can grow.
Plain dirt with a little bit of
grass. Alright.
I fell into a boat on a safari
cruise in Disney World from
my latest goiter-explosion
vacation, my eyelids coated
in crushed gallstone
powder.

My eyebrows
were wintry with the crusts of
cold mashed potatoes. I 
wiped them, and they
flaked.

I then stopped to watch a 
man swallow a sword. He
chose the claymore, and his
throat split open. The
crowd was aghast.
Shortly afterwards, his
assistant came forth and
declared the audience
'trolled.'

The smoke machines
reminded me of the sweet
swampy stench mists of my
friends toilet.
It was right in front of his
grandfathers bedroom door.

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